


Sweeter than Fruit

by okapi



Category: Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti
Genre: Analingus, Cunnilingus, Erotic Poetry, F/F, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Lizzie teaches her sister to suck on something sweeter than goblin fruit.From Christina Rosetti's poem "Goblin Market."





	Sweeter than Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally for the DW Corsets and Lemons 19th century kink meme. The prompt was: _sucking on something sweeter than fruit ;) _. Also for 2019 DW Octobercest and DW 100 Fandoms challenge prompt 050. kitchen.

Lizzie to her sister  
when at rest did speak in whisper,  
“Here are fruits so ripe and pretty.  
Taste the fruits of Lizzie.  
Melons round and warm to touch  
want your suckling oh so much.  
Cherries, two, so rosy, sweet,  
ache for dainty mouth to eat.  
Next a peach with velvet nap  
longs for kisses, licking tongue.  
Put your mouth to a plump grape  
Grape with but a single seed  
drenched in a sugar-sap  
One small suck, please, taste my mead  
and choose our kitchen’s drupes, not market fare  
sister’s fruit o’er goblin ware.”  
  
At length, parched Laura suck’d  
her sister’s melon-breasts and cherry-buds  
Suck’d ‘n’ nibbled pebbles to mere studs.  
Lizzie shook. Wild hips canted, buck’d.  
They drew her greedy sister to their well;  
Laura suck’d quivering flesh, tongued the fig  
then halved, split, held open. She lapped up juices  
which ran from lips to chin,  
more honeyed than the stocks of goblin men,  
they wetted Laura’s grin.  
And Lizzie’s moan like little knell  
a-tolling little death, her orchard sluices,  
crushed pulp of demoiselle.  
  
In Lizzie’s bush was berry fat  
which Laura suck’d ‘til Lizzie spat  
floods from dam-burst orchard dell.  
She suck’d her lips quite sore  
as Lizzie mewled for more.  
Deep in Lizzie’s boughs, she fingered  
while suckling sugar haw  
that ripened with its swell.  
So ravenous was Laura’s hunger,  
feasting, feeding, never ceding,  
she suck’d her lips quite raw,  
forgetting fruits of goblin-monger;  
the craving lingered  
for kitchen suck’d asunder.  
  
‘Til Lizzie urged, “O Laura come:  
I’m greedy for your luscious damascene.  
Turn ‘round, let your drupes be bitten, seen,  
their valley plumb’d.”  
Plump fruits bared, Lizzie bent her head  
to gnaw them toothsome red  
and lap the winking hole in clefted bed  
‘til her sister shrieked  
as her virgin well wept, leaked.  
She’d ne’er been sampled so before,  
never suck’d, devoured from rind to core.  
  
Mouth to bud, mouth to breast,  
they curled ‘round their curtain’d nest  
‘til lark’s first cry.  
“No more the goblin fruit I’ll buy,”  
vowed Laura, plucking Lizzie’s succous fruit.  
“Our kitchen harvest’s far more bountiful,  
my mouth is full,  
and slaked, for now, my thirsty root.  
My orchard throbs so pleasantly from lips  
that draw my sap like presses for the cider,  
that crush my grapes to make a heady wine  
and bend my heavy vine,  
to be suck’d ‘til all’s sore.”  
She drew Lizzie close beside her.  
“Evermore thus?” she asked. “Evermore.”  
replied Lizzie, catching drips.


End file.
